


Guide Me Home

by perfectchaosovesharmony



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Focuses mainly on Henry&Lucy, Gen, Henry doesn't know how to dad, Lucy's mother/Henry's wife speculation, More tags to be added, OUAT S7 Spec, Season/Series 07 Speculation, chapters may be restructured later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-02 23:38:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectchaosovesharmony/pseuds/perfectchaosovesharmony
Summary: It was meant to be the final battle; the last chapter and the end of their tormented lives. Their "Happy Beginnings" for the past fourteen years, but as the author, he supposed it never could be that simple.But when Henry Mills is faced with the expectations of a daughter he never knew he had, as well as a curse he hadn't even known was enacted, he will be forced to dive back into a world he had desperately tried to escape, as well as returning to a family he never believed to see again.





	1. Once More

It was late evening, around eight o'clock, when a sharp knocking brought his attention to the door, the serene quiet that had stolen Henry Mills into a light sleep was shaken away as he scrambled to his feet, the cool touch of the wooden floor beneath him caused a shiver to flood through him. The night was set to be a cold one, he supposed begrudging as he made his way into his dark apartment, yawning as he flicked the hall-light on once he past, a thin frost clung to the windows, tempting the embrace of his warm covers as the October chill rolled in.

He fumbled with his keeps, swiping them up from the small table he had thrown onto earlier unlocking the door with a click before he cracked it open, the brightness of the hallway blinding his weary eyes, to find a small girl waiting patiently on the other side.

She appeared to be only nine or ten, and very much alone. His heart seemed to flutter at the sight of her, opening the door slightly wider as he stared for a moment, her dark, warm eyes and soft curled that flooded down the back of her hoodie almost made him cling to his chest.

“Um... hello?” He spoke slowly, watching her shift on the spot, the corner of her mouth threatened to give a smile. She pursed her lip as he blinked back, glancing behind her as if someone else would magically appear, clear to be with the girl.

“Hi.” The little girl didn't stutter, her eyes wide and curious, almost hungry for answers that honestly, he wasn't sure he could give. “Are you Henry Mills?”

He opened the door wider, allowing him to fit in the doorway as he cast his eyes across the hall, searching for someone who accompanied her, not finding anyone before he cast his eyes back down onto her. “Uh... yeah... yeah. W-who are you?”

The little girl's dark eyes seemed to brighten up, the corners of her mouth stretched as she leaned forward, happiness sparked at the sound of his reply. “My name's Lucy,” He found his mouth open, ready to reply with questions of his own when – “I'm your daughter.”

Henry seemed to freeze for a moment, the chill that crept down his back caused him to stiffen before his grip on the door tightened, stepping back slightly in order to push it closed. “I don't have a daughter.” He blurted out matter-oh-factly before the door was abruptly stopped, the little girl's small hand stretched out to hold it firmly open, her smile sunk into an assertive frown.

“Yeah, you do.” She assured again, pushing the door open once more. “Now, come on... your family needs you.”

His breath stiffened, her confidence in such a statement, the boldness of her dark eyes and gleam of hope... it was almost as if he were meeting his younger self, dressed in a long scarf and clinging to even the possibility of hope. 

The little girl, calling herself 'Lucy', took his silence with a smile as she pushed the door farther, allowing herself to slip past him inside before he could protest. He said nothing however, instead closing the door behind her, his eyes glossed over in thought.

“So,” She said, dancing on the heels of her feet as her long, raven curls bounced behind her, drawing him to a place that was oddly familiar and yet he could have sworn to have never been, the scent of cinnamon in the air, a blistering heat that clung hairs to his neck and a warm laugh, never mind a happiness he couldn't believe it brought to him. A voice seemed to stir inside him, a voice soft yet commanding, pleading words of hope, magic and belief. To fight. He shook the thoughts away, he didn't want to fight. Not anymore, since... “We'd better get going, it's gonna be a long drive.”

He choked on his words, memories swirled as he clasped the the door for support, clenching his teeth at the sound of the little girl's – Lucy's – voice.“G-give...gimme a minute.”

 

Somewhere else, in a place that smelt of fire and decay, a women ran. Her dark locks were hidden under a hood, the rough material of her cloak, deep scarlet in colour, scratched against the skin of her neck. She kept running. 

She could hear the sound of a fire, a dark blaze burning and crackling deep into the forest, wind gushing behind her as she leapt over a branch sprouting from the ground. Dead leaves laid underfoot, foliage crunched and the dark fire growled somewhere in the distance, sounding more of a mighty thunder.

“A-almost there...” She gasped, whispering to herself as she swung around another tree, zigzagging her way through the forest with the swiftness of a bird in flight. She did not notice the last root, tangled in dirt and moss, until the tip of her foot caught it, sending her off balance and to the ground, her shoulder slamming against the hard floor.

She winched, drawing her head back as the dark fire seemed to near, throwing her hair from her face as she leapt back up, swiping up what seemed to be a small box from the dirt, thin in width with long sides embroiled with golden designs and curled writing.

The shadow loomed overhead, little than a few kilometres away, but untouched in the way of the physical ways of the forest as it flinched, lingering just at the edge. It snarled, baring teeth like dagger and words unknown to mankind. The women smiled, flicking her cloak behind her, a chuckle loose in her throat. Dirt and leaves remained in her hair, her dark eyes gleamed. “You are not welcome here... go.”

The dark fire seemed to twitch at her words, imploding in on itself as a sound like a crack of thunder filled the air, echoing to the haven below the hill before it seemed to sink back into the dark depths of the forest.

The women's smile weakened, her brow sunk as she drew her fingers over the box, biting her lip as her eyes lingered on the bracelet on her wrist, the green and gold designs carved deep into the metal. “I hope Blue was right...”

 

The minutes seemed to drag on, his body hunched desperately like a animal against the bathroom door, scrambling to catch his breath as his lungs burnt, words that felt foreign on his tongue and yet held security there filled his mouth, like he had always tasted them but only know noticed how sweet yet sour they were. “D-daughter...?” He wheezed, his heart bounding as the words continued to spiral in his head. Believe...

He gripped his temples, straightening himself up, his shoulder-blades scratched against the door, snapping his head back as he heard her – Lucy, his... daughter – call out. “ Do you have any juice?”  
He listened out as the previous silence was replaced with rubber squeaking, followed by the groan of wood and a light slam before she spoke up again, “Nevermind! I found some!”

Swallowing another breath, he curled his hand around the handle before tearing it open, breach the now empty hallway, searching for any sign of the little girl claiming to be his daughter. He found her, however, as he tore around the corner into the small kitchen unit, her small form sat comfortably on one of the stools at his kitchen counter with a small glass of orange in her hand, the carton laid in front of her.

Licking her lips, Lucy smiled as she turned to notice him, placing the empty glass down, swinging her legs in the air. “Are you gonna pack or-”

“Kid.” He found his stomach churn at the familiar sound, shaking the feeling away as he crossed his arms across his chest, asking why she really was here and where were her parents.

She replied with the same answer, assurances of family and an oncoming darkness as she pulled the book he had only noticed to be in her hands now, the sharp, golden scrawl that was printed along the front almost knocking him off his feet. Her lip curled as he cast his widened eyes upon it, tearing it open to the first page where an inscription laid. 

In his handwriting.

“Do you believe me now?” She asked coyly, earning an arched brow from his as his eyes tore over the words, tasting them over and over until he felt sick. It was impossible. 

He swallowed a thick breath, leaning against the wall with a sigh after handing the book back, the ground consumed his view. “Where do I have to go?”

“Home.”

He licked his lip, biting it softly. For so long he had considered his apartment home, a place of refugee from the harsh world, but to his heart, and the entirety of his memories, it would always be there.

Lucy seemed to imagine the cogs turning inside his head, her expression sunk into that of empathy. She cupped her hands, sucking a breath through her teeth as she scanned around the small kitchen, the corners of her mouth curled after a moment. “This may not be the time, or the place, but... do you like cocoa?”

Henry gazed up at her, the golden light cast her eyes in a hazel glow oh-so-like his, her darker complexion shaded with shadows and a hope he hadn't seen in quite some time. Believe.

His found his jaw relax, the clenched muscle in his forehead soften, allowing him to straighten up as he passed by her, his eyes never leaving the book as he flicked the kettle on while he retrieving two mugs. “Yeah, kid... do you take cinnamon or...?”

She nodded, her expression lit up with a beaming smile. A soft giggle escaped her lips. Believe –

And maybe, he could learn to again.


	2. Welcome To Storybrooke

That night, despite the warm embrace of his sheets, did not prove a restful one. This was clear, Henry sighed to himself, as he twisted once more onto his side, his forearm nestled comfortably underneath his pillow. A gush of wind swept against his window, the wooden frame groaned, earning another sigh from him as he turned onto his other side, placing his back to the view of the dark street below.

His neck ached at his constant turning, cracking as he bent it slightly. His blankets, skimming the line of his waist, held no solution to the heavy sweat he found himself victim to, throwing them off a moment later at the chance of the cool air dampening the fire within his chest. It didn't.

He could hear the little girl – Lucy, she called herself – give out a light, almost inaudible snore from the next room, her nerves having taken him more than an hour to coax to sleep, less he wish to wrestle his own thoughts. Why a child would find it so hard to sleep, to relax in a clearly safe environment, he couldn't tell. But her book certainly helped, pressing tightly against her small chest as exhaustion lured her to sleep, almost protectively. Not for her, but for her book's protection.

Her book.

Nostalgia seemed to all but crash against him like a great tsunami, ploughing through his mind for what little he could tell from the less than two hours he had spent with her. Her book, laid a white paperback with crisp, worn pages that he could tell she often sought refugee in, was quite similar to that of the one he too had clung to at such an age. But, was it to keep her afloat, or an anchor?

A scowl was locked in his throat, throwing whatever blankets still clung to him as he raised himself to a sitting position, his mattress groaned. Glancing over to his side table, the glaring red numbers that met him through the dark alluded to it being a little less past midnight. He sighed, resting his feet on the floor as he hunched his shoulders, his face consumed by his hands. 

How was he a father? Who was the mother – a detail Lucy had cleverly laid absent in her tale, and why hadn't she told him? He gritted his teeth, anger boiling in his stomach. He deserved to know, especially if their supposed 'daughter' was to one day turn up at his door.

His first instinct in such a situation, as he supposed most people would share, would to consider it a joke, a prank that honestly cross the line. But Lucy had been assertive in her tale, detailing grand tales of magic and belief, another danger that threatened all he held dear. His family, Storybrooke.

He had almost believed her, with knowledge of his family and the magic bound to their small new-England town, her words spun tales that he believe almost certain that he himself would adore to write. And yet he reached for the receiver, a word of caution in his voice, desiring her true intentions. It was then she delved into her book, a detail she glanced over, assuming it to hold every answer to whatever question he posed, all within it's front page.

The page, while vague and not completely fulfilling, did pose him with questions that he supposed would further her endeavour, should he – and he could tell she knew he absolutely would, with a smirk that almost punctured his heart with such a mannerism similar to him – want answers to them.

Lucy was, after all, only ten – a fact she was absolute to make sure he knew – which all but confirmed that he would have only been eighteen when she was conceived. He couldn't have had a child in college... sure he may have had a girlfriend or two, but none that he didn't still hold contact with nine months after.

He had been safe. His family, none more than his own mothers, had made sure to imprint it in his mind... less they leave him to the wrath of one of Hook's pirate tales, which often went into too much detail for his, or either of his mothers liking. 

Casting his eyes back up to the wall that separated them both, he sighed. Obviously not safe enough. And now, he found clear evidence of that.

A moment past before he found the strength to pry himself off of the bed, feeling the chill of the air against his burning skin, as he made his way towards his desk. His chair groaned as he all but collapsed onto it, his legs ached at the sudden movement, before straightening against the back of it.

His mouse found the still-open word document folder almost instinctive, running his hands along the keys of his laptop, tapping the skin of his fingers against them expectantly. The plastic was worn, the stickers faded along the space bar and delete buttons, a tale he knew far too well. He winched at the brightness of the screen, his screen-saver that leaked out the corners of the document almost made him click the shrink tab. 

He bit his lip, dragging the mouse instead down to the bottom bar of the screen, greeted with whatever colourful design commemorated the history of that date. He paused for a moment, fighting the urge to watch the wall once more, instead focusing on the sound of Lucy's breathing.

“Alright, kid.” He muttered under his breath, the word cold against his lips. “How do you know so much...?”

Henry almost swore under his breath as he found a low buzzing strip the room of it's silence, buzzing somewhere behind him. He scowling, ripping himself from his chair as he paced back over to his bed, swiping up his iPhone from beneath his side table, the small shelf crammed with balls of paper and empty pens. “H-hello?”

“Hey.” The voice on the other side spoke softly, a yawn pecked at their voice, clearly a female. “Sorry to call you so late, were you asleep – ”

Henry shook his head. “No, it's okay.” He paused for a moment, listening out to the sound of Lucy's snoring “W-what's up?”

“I've got to stay back here the weekend, seems Carol lost all the papers for Mondays assignment, in my new class, and well – y'know, I gotta try to get them back.” 

“Oh.” He sighed, relief flooded over him as his eyes drew away from the wall. “Oh, that sucks. It'll take you the whole weekend to redo it?”

“Unless we get a miracle... yeah.” The female's voice broke into a sigh.

He twisted the phone over to his other ear, pacing back over to his desk. “Okay.”

The women was silent for a moment, her voice eased with guilt. “Did I wake you? Sorry...! I just couldn't risk waiting till tomorrow with my other classes and-”

“Don't worry 'bout me, I was still awake... hoping to get chapter thirteen done.” He smiled softly as he could hear the sound of rustling through the other side, rolling his eyes towards his laptop screen. “Haven't heard from you for a day or, is everything okay there? You've never mentions a 'Carol' before.”

“Yeah.” The women chuckled. “Just busy, y'know that extra class I took? Turns out it clashes with my Wednesday so I managed to switch with someone but now I'm stuck with this girl named Carol. She is lovely but... lost our papers for Monday.”

Henry sat back down into his chair, returning the phone to his original ear. “Hope you guys get them back... hey, you seem tired. How 'bout I call you tomorrow, maybe around your break?”

“Yeah... that sounds better, I don't wanna start smelling sounds or anything.” He could hear her words curl around a smile, a light chuckle in her voice. “You better get some sleep too, yah' hypocrite.”

He felt his chair swivel, swinging back and fort as he yanked it gently with his feet. “Okay... yes ma'am. Love you.”

“Love you too.” The women sighed before the call clicked closed, greeting him with his darkened screen once more. His shoulders fell, his lip curled as his eyes brushed over his screen, flicking back to his home screen before placing it back onto his desk. He switched the laptop off, sighing as he once more sat up, his face fell into his hand.

He had promised Lucy they'd go to Storybrooke in the morning. And, in which he knew for certain, it would be a quick trip. There was no need to mention anything yet, but if his family was in danger... than Lucy was telling the truth. And he had a daughter. He groaned, rubbing his hands through his hair. Either way... he'd have to face a woman's wrath.

 

“You look tired.”

Henry sighed as Lucy broke the silence, sitting beside him in the passenger seat with her book on her lap and a Styrofoam cup of cocoa – she loved the stuff – while he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “ I am.” He grunted, placing the cup down in the holder as he signalled out, flicking his indicator before turning back onto the main road.

They had stopped at a small diner nearby for lunch, neither really hungry but bodies starved for caffeine where they got directions for the fastest route to Maine, not lingering too long to draw attention.

“Well, you must either be really nervous, or excited.” Lucy added, smiling sweetly at him.

He arched a brow, ignoring the comment for a moment as she played with her cup, tossing it back and forth between her hands. He felt the corners of his mouth curl as he noticed the neat rim of cocoa lining her top lip, brushing away his sudden instinct to wipe it off.

He scowled, cursing to himself. Christ, he had only been with this kid for a few hours and he was already acting like her dad. Henry shook the thought away, instead focusing on the road and how it narrowed slightly at the near turn, the barren, concrete landscape replaced by clumps of forests and a world of only green.

A cold shiver ran down his neck at the sight, his throat growing dry as he caught himself peering over the little girl accusing to be his daughter beside him, her curls tucked behind her ear as they flooded down her back, her dark eyes stared out the window with a wonder he could never capture with words, her back hunched as she rested her chin of her forearm against the window. She appeared tiny, docile and captured in the glory of the world around her, so eager for its love.

Had this been what Emma had gone through? What he had forced her through, inconsiderate as to the pain their reunion had brought as well as the chaos as he pulled her into as well as away from her established life, albeit a lonely one? To watch her tiny child – and he had been a bit smaller than the others in his class, despite being the only one who aged – ache for a love he hadn't realised did not exist, for a life that she did not want, at least at the time.

To realise that she would have to be the one to condemn him to that fate, to the grave disappointment of the world that fairytales made seem so much brighter, so much easier to fight together, than alone.

“You can quit being hostile,” He was pulled from his thoughts as Lucy's voice filled the air, the radio playing on at a low volume. “I know you're scared... and that you like me.”

He frowned, not removing his eyes from the road. “I'm not... hostile. I just- I'm confused.”

“ 'Bout what?” She asked, twisting her body back to face him. “I've told everything.”

His fingers tapping against the material coating the wheel, shifting in his seat. “Actually, you haven't. Like – who is your mom? Why'd she never tell me? And how do you know about my family-”

“Our family.” She interrupted, drawing her mouth into a thin line. “Since you're my dad, their my family too. And my mom's.”

“Point being,” He added, his voice sharp. “Who is she?”

Lucy was silent, turning back to the window, half-hiding her face with her arms. “I don't think you there yet... you're not ready.”

“Ready? For what?” He asked, glancing at her for a moment. “To learn I have a daughter? That she kept it from me for ten years? 'Cause I don't think anyone would ever be ready to hear that.”

Lucy frowned. “She couldn't contact you... even if you'd have wanted me, you wouldn't have been able to find us.”

“Well,” He sighed, frowning. “That discussion shouldn't have been made by just her, I should've gotten a chance. Everyone deserves to at least know their father, or their kid... no one should find out at your age.”

“Like your dad?”

Henry swallowed thickly, his grip tight on the wheel as he took the final turn, coming onto the familiar long stretch of road, the concrete littered with leaves and scattered puddles as it dipped at the sides, falling down into the covered canopy that surrounded the town he once called home.

“How...” He struggled to find the words. “How do you know about that... about him?”

“I didn't.”He could feel her watching him, her dark eyes clung to his. “I can tell.”

Henry was quiet for a moment. “What makes your mom think that I wouldn't want you? Was she scared that I'd try and take you or – ”

“I don't know...” Lucy sighed. “She never said why, she rarely talked about you. I think it hurt.”

He seemed to digest her words, replaying them in his head as they made their way further down the road, trees past by in a blur, the world consumed in green. He sighed, increasing his foot's pressure slightly, watching Lucy shift in her seat, expectantly.

“Well, kid.” He muttered, glancing over at her in the corner of his eye. “Whatever her reason, sorry it took so long...”

Her lip curled, a sight that made his heart flutter. Straightening in his seat, he drank down the rest of his coffee, watching her head turn to gaze out the window. “Kid...?”

“I...” She began, her words curled with her smile. “I've never seen some much green, it's so... wild, so bright compared to back home.”

He chuckled. “What? You live in a desert or something?”

“No. It was green back home... just, not like this.” She leaned further towards her window. “ Any forests we had I wasn't allowed into... mom wanted me inside, most of the time.”

“Well, kid.” He spoke out, drawing her attention away from her window. “You're not at home anymore. Welcome to Storybrooke.”


	3. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be shorter than the rest, as well as being primarily a flashback, but I will bring out longer chapters for the main point that I wanted to get this scene out of the way as well as introduce the beginning of Henry's journey as the author, while some chapters may not have flashbacks while some others will, I am hopeful to begin to get into the real start of the story as on Thursday I will be on Summer Holidays and able to produce more.

The marketplace was buzzing with activity; children ran through the crowded streets as they played their games, market-sellers cries filled the air as the assortment of goods intoxicated his senses. Henry could only look in awe at the arrangement of colors that laid scattered before him, the people of that realm oblivious to the attire of colors their world offered.

He could feel his pen graze his fingertips, the smooth wood hard yet gentle against the palm of his hand, fitting almost perfectly between the bend of his thumb and his forefinger. Relaxing his shoulders, he peered back down onto the blank page that presented itself to him, the book whispering tales of wonder and magic, all ready to be tasted.

He rose to his feet slowly, cautious with his mother's worlds still lingering within his head, his expression stern but eyes blazing with curiosity. He flicked back his cloak, the scarlet material grazed his shoulders and fell down to his tail-bone, the dust of the heat clung to it. His boots were rough, his soles not yet used to the leather of this realm as he strolled past a group of middle-aged women, their hushed tones made conversation hard to hear.

But Henry continued on, not yet retrieving the pen from inside his pocket as he made his way to the edge of the market, where a lonely bench stood. There was only one person on that side of the stalls, a women with a hunched appearance, her large hood casting her face into darkness.

Sitting down on the opposite side, he gave the women a quick glance, her gaze not risen from the ground as she ran the tip of her foot through the dust. He turned away before she noticed, pulling out the fresh book, the leather bound was a clear white, running his fingers along it before tearing it open to the second page.

The paper was soft, clear and well-suited to such a task as his, the ink wet and his pen raised, he laid only to wait for the story to begin. And wait he did, for this was his first story – and he was its author.

 

The minutes dragged on, neither spoke as if to speak was to erase the road, erase all these long hours and cups of coffee. The minutes felt like years, Henry soon realized, as his eyes drew further along the road, scanning the horizon for a glimmer of familiar scenery. The strong chime of the clock, the almost electric sense that filled the air or the sound of a siren.

None of these came.

“Wha-” He heard Lucy gasp, her confidence withered away into pure confusion, her dark eyes struck with fear and a sort of emptiness that should never be found in a child. She gripped her book tighter, coloring her knuckles a snowy white as her eyes clung to the horizon, the next hill, a slow turn... anything, that in the mind of a child, could mask a town.

Henry could feel his throat tighten, his eyes flicker for a moment, catching the moonlight like a wall, a ray of light marked along the concrete, deep into the forest. He blinked, and was left with nothing, the road dragging on in an endless strip, the world consumed by the barriers of trees that surrounded them. He gritted his teeth, feeling his stomach drop as he broke the silence. “Kid-”

“No!” Lucy snapped, her brow furrowed as she ripped open her book. “We have to keep going, we have to...” Her words seemed to fall apart as they drove even farther down the road, her eyes scanned through her window, searching for something, anything, he supposed, that could explain such a thing. Henry could only watch, his lungs burnt as he let out a breath he hadn't realized he held, straightening himself as the young girl beside him grew silent. “Kid-”

“Wait... we could – ”

Henry stopped her, his voice stern with no room for argument as he slowed the car to a halt, the back-lights gave the long row of trees behind them a scarlet glow, the darkness between them consuming whatever color survived. “Kid. It's gone...”

“How?!” Lucy shrieked, twisting around to face him once more, her cheeks puffed red as her eyes darted between his, her dark orbs filled with a dire confusion, a truth her mind couldn't unravel. “An entire town can't just vanish into thin air!”

“It can,” His voice was stern, his eyes refused to meet her as he swallowed a thick breath. The car was silent for a moment as she gazed at him, the certainty in his voice chilling, the gentle purr of the engine stole the silence as it shook slightly, flinching as it maneuvered around a pothole, the headlights flickered to life amongst the growing darkness as Henry spoke. “- and it has been since I left.”

“Wha-”

Henry sighed, his eyes flickered back to meet hers, a tired redness seemed to form at the edges. He shifted his shoulders, his body tense as pulled the car to a halt, the trees behind cast in a scarlet glow as the car glided backwards, his lip pursed as he spoke softly. “Storybrooke was destroyed ten years ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, judging that these first three chapter were meant to act as a sort of introduction to the story and the state of things since the main heroes won the final battle. I will try to include flashbacks in every chapter, as well as increase them as these next few ones will be rather mundane, taking the magic-less beginning of Season 1 (which Season 7 is said to be slightly based upon) as I try to establish exactly what is happening while trying to introduce this new version of Henry, one whom I hope can be seen as changed since we last saw him. And as I am writing this, I am trying to keep updated with recent news about the show, trying to incorporate details that would fit in this story while also being original. Thank you for reading, constructive criticism is welcome!


	4. Love At First Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the title. Jk not really.

The paper felt warm against his fingers, the smooth, yet sharp corners left white marks on his skin as he trailed his fingertips along the rim, the leather binding secured the pages with a solid grip as he passed it between his hands playfully. His eyes darted across the marketplace, his breathing hitched at the chance of something unfolding, yet he remained, his body sore and muscles cramping at the lack of movement around him.

The minutes drew on, the worn clock that hung on top of the stone arch that over looked the market, the thin golden hands curled at the tips ticked on, the time as well as his patience wavered. Henry could feel his stomach churn, his mind flooded with the workings of such a new realm, his thoughts snapped and twisted like some sort of animal, rabid and desperate to be released.

He could feel the heat radiate from his pen, the slim wood was tossed between his fingers, fitted in every gap and rolled against the skin of his palm, twitching with a almost plead for a story to taste.

“Calm down... this is the place.” He muttered softly, loosening the words on his lips as the heat seemed to flutter for a moment, an almost electric sensation burnt through his fingers. He hissed, sucking a breath through his teeth as he leant against his knees, sighing as he resting the book on his lap. “Well if you were better at tracking them, we wouldn't have to wait... now would we?”

A soft chuckle brought his attention away from his pen, casting his view onto the women beside him, who had seemingly shifted closer during his quiet argument. “Are you... talking to your possessions?”

He stole a breath, his head twisted as he straightened his back to face the women. “N-no... that would be absurd – ”

“You're definitely not local, then.”

Henry swallowed a thick breath, feeling the heat of the overhead sun peck at his skin, a light sweat coated the back of his neck as the women cast her gaze on him, her cloak fell slightly from her face as she leaned down. Her eyes were the color of honey, dark and surreal in the shadow of her hood, they reminded him of amber. “W-what makes you so sure, why would I-”

A blade was placed against his thigh, drawing along the rough fabric of his trousers cautiously.“No one in this kingdom, one whom has at least has been here for more than a day, would ever sit next to a complete stranger without a reason to not being noticed... less they be on royal business.” Henry flinched at he felt the blade's point gain more force, the women did not seem fazed as she slowly drew the knife back under the cloak, her lip curled. “So, I suggest that if you wish to continue to not be noticed, you leave. Now.”

“Why...?” Henry gasped softly as she rose from the bench, flicking her cloak behind her, the introduction of trousers rather than a dress drew his attention. This, however, lasted little more than a moment before a cry filled the air, wandering over towards the arch as a small flock of soldiers, dressed in light metal and a crest he did not recognize. “Because,” She snapped. “-you are not involved.”

The women smiled softly at him as the guards passed by, cutting through the market towards the center of the city, turning to follow. Henry could only watch, her hips swayed softly, as she joint the forming crowds that drew into the city center, her red cloak blended into the rich colors of the people. The heat seemed to burn his hand, his muscles tensed as the pen gave a serene silver glow.

He dipped the pen tip into the inkwell abruptly before he rose from the bench, book in hand, as he set out in her tracks, his lip curled as he tore the book open on a fresh page, the scent of ink spiraled his senses into entropy, a few words was scrawled along the top of the page.

 

The rain had begun as a light drizzle, the winds crept up at their rear a few hours from Seattle, dreary-eyed and worn beyond seeming repair, Henry hadn't even bothered to question her on whether or not she had anywhere to go back to. His mind dulled, the ache in his chest as her mouth solidified into a frown held these words back.

The roads grew unsteady, the thin layer above the concrete doubled as the hours past, wheels squeaked, the car's frame groaned, shuddering against the thunderous storm, bashing against them with no clear skies in sight. It was only for city lights that he kept going, the glittering of the skyline edged him forward as they were slowly entrapped in a maze of skyscrapers.

Lucy was silent as he drew in to the side of the streets, the street-lamps posed an almost sterile brightness against the surrounding darkness. Her long black hair had fallen from behind her ear, hiding her face from his view as he yanked the keys out, the engine still hummed softly, a dull heat radiated from the hood.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, his voice low and soft, winching at the pain in her features. She was silent and he said nothing, how could he? What could he possibly say to comfort her, a child who had no idea of the forces at work, or the complications he had long accepted? “Ki- Lucy. Come on.”

She remained seated, her eyes focused on the passenger window, her hands clasped tightly around her book. Henry exhaled, drawing a breath in through his nose before continuing. “I'm not sure what happened, kid.” He brushed his hair back before unbuckling his seat belt. “ I wasn't exactly in the best state when I left, I can only guess something must've happened after I left for college-”

She watched as he pushed his door open, climbing out before retrieving his jacket and bag from the back-seat, gazing at her before shutting the door. “You didn't go to college... at least not straight away.”

“Really?... then where did I go? ”

“I dunno,” She shrugged, her voice lightened as the corners of her mouth curled, twisting back as she watched him throw his jacket on before fetching his wallet and closing the door behind him. He waited as she climbed out, taking her book from her hands and shoving it into his bag before throwing it over his shoulder. “-you tell me.”

Henry sighed, slamming her door shut before locking the door with a click. They both strolled across the streets with wide steps, the rain pouring down with more force by the minute. He had seen a sign for a B&B a few minutes beforehand, his head pounding too loudly to bother asking for directions, noting the urgent, almost instinctive grasp Lucy held onto his hand, almost endearing as her fingers curled between his. 

Turning the corner, he found himself under the flickering light, the building turned to curl around the corner with the door being centered against a small path that broke out of the pavement, his body relaxed at the glaring light that peeked through the bottom floor windows.

Lucy followed obediently, paying little to no attention to the sign that hung over the door-frame, the golden, curled writing that was styled similar to that of feathers, the words sparked a sort of deja-vu within Henry, the thoughts disappeared as soon as they entered the door, a sweet, little bell chimed. The sign above the wall was cast in shadow, the light from the streetlamps cast long shadows over the corner, it read; The Jaquin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I have finally gotten this chapter out, I know that these chapters may seem short or pointless but the story will really begin now. I am aiming for each chapter to be over 1000 words, with this being close to 1500 I am striving for each after this to be about 1500, and I am thinking about 15-20 chapters for this, judging that it goes to plan. 
> 
> So with that little hint at the end, I am taking some will know exactly who we're going to meet next and although it may not to clear now I guess some of you are guessing who the mum is and the next chapter will be alot of her and Henry. I am hoping to dedicate some chapters to only flashbacks so there will still be gaps in 'scenes' being two spaces. I hope you enjoy this, constructive criticism is helpful! Any suggestions, perhaps even on future chapter length. Thanks for reading and I hope to upload more frequently!


	5. The Scarlet Women

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THIS SOONER! I have been rattling my brain over this, writing the next chapter or two over and over in my head but I don't like it? I enjoy this story and love writing it, going over it with my sister (She has given me so many more brilliant ideas!) but this chapter just felt so stale...?
> 
> Anyway, I hope that I can post more but I am working on this, but I'm cautious about what I put up to avoid plot holes or having to change something by the next chapter. I've been re-watching the earlier seasons just to make sense of the structure of the episodes compared to S5/S6.
> 
> I have a few stories planned out in terms of secondary characters but they will come in a chapter or two, if you have any new characters (Disney or not) please suggest, I'm not without ideas but I'd love if someone knew about a character from a story or something that I can't remember that would fit (no dreamworks or anything like that cause not disney/fairytale).
> 
> I hope you enjoy, comments and/or constructive criticism is really appreciated!

The women was quick on her feet, much quicker than Henry had anticipated as he slowed to a halt, twisting around the corner of the arch and into the large center onward. Swarms of people flooded from every direction, the cries of women and children filled the air, rich scents and pure, expensive colors molded together as the soldiers led them, guiding with a firm, but not vicious hand.

Compared to what he had heard of his mother's guards, the disgusting, ruthless brutes she commanded under her reign who took what they wanted and left none alive, he supposed they were quite tame.

His eyes continued to trace the crowds, flattening his book open against his chest he took a quick step left, wavering into the crowds that joint what seemed to be the entirety of the area's population. His vision darted from corner to corner, scanning for the scarlet cloak, only to see a sea of magnificent colors, he sighed.

He dug the tip of his boot into the dust, cracked cobblestone littered the grounds, torn at corners and coated in a light layer of ash, elaborate designs swirled towards the center, glistening with rich jewels, rubies and sapphires dotted the short walls that enclosed the circular court. Had it been the right culture, he might've reminisced of Roman ruins, grand monuments of wealth and splendid that faded to decay. Several empty plots laid scattered along the walls, jewels cracked and torn from their places.-

A rough hand shoved him forward, Henry scowled, biding such a command with a unseen glare, wrapping his cloak tighter around his shoulders and chest, his pouch snug in his breast pocket. Growing used to the harshness some locals held against him would be difficult, but he understood it to be a necessary sacrifice. These people had grown up in what would be considered 'medieval' conditions, with life a constant struggle, fighting to grow and sustain their livelihoods – meanwhile in Storybrooke, the only struggle he faced was stretching a single box of pop-tarts to last him a week. Oh the horror!

“ 'Cuse me.” He muttered, shoving past a group of burly men, their rough tunics and bearded faces gave him a sure sign to not linger, worming his way through the crowds as he searched for the women , his eyes darted at the slightly glimmer of scarlet fabric.

His mouth soon sunk into a frown, his brows furrowed as he skimmed along the flocks of women he passed, the long, silky colorful cloaks and long flowing locks made them an collection of beauty, his eyes lingered for a moment, their dark curls licked the tanned skin of their necks, their skin sparkled in the sun. The corners of his mouth curled, his eyes fluttered for moment as he caught one of the women's gaze, her cautious gaze soon melted as she flashed him a small smile, her fingers curled into a sort of wave. He rose his hand, his eyes widened as he crashed against a small frame, the gesture forgotten as he stumbled not to fall, a light groan came from his front as he turned back to face it's owner. “Ah-god, I'm sorry I wasn't – You!”

His vision was regained as he turned to find himself presented with a scarlet cloak, the wearer's glare met his, familiar amber eyes sharpened as she straightened herself, scoffing as she dusted herself off. “Ugh... don't you know a warning when you hear one? Tonto.”

“Hey!” Henry returned her glare, pursing his lips into a frown. “At least I don't go threatening people with knives!”

“El burro sabe mas que tu – At least I do not walk myself into someone, too busy watching some puta!” She spoke back, her words harsh and gruff as she snatched up something from the ground between them, holding what looked to be a silver bracelet of some kind, dotted with smaller jewels, dusting it off before quickly shoving it into her pocket.

“Wha-” Henry opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again after a moment, his shoulders low. “Listen, I didn't understand half of what you just said there, so why don't we just-”

The women scowled as she pushed past him, “Good.” She was quick on her feet, skimming her hip along the high stone walls that seemed to surround the city just as Henry hurried after her, feeling the worn stone against his fingertips as he followed at her heel.

“Hey!” He made an attempt to grab her hand, his fingers grazed the skin of her palm, the heat of her skin gave an electric sensation as he manoeuvred around a few more burly men stationed with their backs against the wall, ignoring their hisses and words that he did not understand in the slightest. “Would you please wait – Oh! Sorry ma'am!” He scrambled to avoid walking into a stout women, a babe in her arms and three children at her feet made such a thing very difficult, but he managed to keep the scarlet-clad women in his sight. 

He soon caught up, however, as she stopped near the edge of the courtyard, angling herself around the corner a to not be seen around the other side. She hissed as he lingered beside her, glancing over her head around the corner. “Pendejo – you're going to get me caught!”

Henry remained silent, pursing his lips as the sound of hooves, the low hum shook the ground slightly as it filled the courtyard, the crowds grew quiet as the sound, like a mighty thunder in the distance cracked, growing louder till it seemed to echo through his head. A few moments past before he spotted them.

Mighty, ebony horses soon broke the horizon, leather and chain clicked into the harnesses, scouts spaced out a little ahead of the main group, their armour a mixture of black and lavender, helmets that sprouted feathers from the crowns of their heads, stretching down their jaws and curling around their chins. 

He gripped his book tighter against his chest, hiding it underneath his cloak. “Who's that?”

“None of your concern,” She muttered, her face solemn, her eyes darted across the courtyard, eyeing the people with a frown, sighing before twisting back around the face him. “-unless you'd rather continue to get in my way.”

“You didn't answer my question – why are you so concerned anyway? Considering less than a minute ago you were ready to shank me.” She watched him for a moment, clearly unsure of such a term, before pushing him back against the wall, her fist tight on his collar.

She scowled, glancing up at him angrily. “Look, I only did that because you are quite plainly not from this land, and so, I did not want you to be caught in something that has nothing to do with you.” She pursed her lips, loosing his collar as the horses drew closer. “ I am trying to spare you.”

“From what?”

She shook her head, her expression grew in irritation as she slipped past him, hurrying back into the edge of the courtyard with him in pursuit, darting into the forming crowds just as the carriages had broken through the front gate, lining the opening with soldiers clad in dark purple armor. 

The people quickly grew silent as these soldiers made their way towards them, lining the front of the crowds in an orderly fashion, making a clear example as they brandished their swords, stances firm. 

The main carriage, with golden designs curling up from the wheels around the roof like a proud bird in-flight, bouncing off the purple tint of the metal exterior, halted smoothly a few feet from the entrance, the wheels groaned as they flattened under the steady weight.

A guard hurried to the door, pulling it open to address the women behind it, her actions nimble as she stepped out onto the ground, her gown long and tight against her waist with exquisite jewels scattered along her waist, sleeves and collar. Her expression was solemn as she gazed around the courtyard, her thin brows arched slightly as she gestured to the guard, his movements stiff as he stepped away, his head bowed low.

Henry could feel the skin of his neck prickle, his pen shivered in his sleeve, a light hiss escaped his lips at the red-hot sensation that it sent through his arm. The women seemed to say something to two of the guards, the corners of her mouth curled, her upper-lip thin and coated in a rich scarlet, he could spy the deep marking ridged into the skin beneath her eyes despite the distance.

His hand itched to graze the paper with such an image. His breath stiffened, his hand remained by his hip. “Who is she...?” He muttered softly, his eyes still as he listened to the women beside him shift on her feet, her blade shifted beneath her cloak.

She was silent for a moment, her eyes lingered over the two guards as they past the crowds, their shoulders tense and faces hidden, hands hovering over the swords that hung from their hips, her blade twitched. “She is the Tyrant 'Queen' of this land – but not for much longer.”

“What?” He turned his head slightly, his eyes lingered over hers, the dark, honey-colored orbs seemed to dart above for a moment, his quick to follow as he drew up to the rooftops, the skies were a tainted gold, white swirls of clouds ruptured from the horizon, shadows captured them to the west.

The sun flickered for a moment, light drawn out to the worn rooftops alerted him to a shape filled out slightly behind one of the brick , moss-invested chimney's that dotted the roofs as far as he could see. The figure was still for a moment, the glaring sun seduced him to blink as he looked back to find such a thing ridden from the skyline, the heat blaring wickedly down as he found his eyes drawn to another roof slightly further along the courtyard, another shadow gone within a heartbeat.

He turned back to her. “What are you going to do?” He whispered, eyes flickering back towards the carriage. “With all those guards, it's suicide.”

“I would prefer to call it 'politics'. Besides – ” She smirked as she stepped forwards, slipping between two men. “ – you are not involved, remember?”

Henry scowled, glancing back up to the rooftops for a moment before drawing after her, quick on his feet as he shoved less-delicately than he had hoped between those before him, struggling to remain on his feet as their shouts of displeasure filled the air.

The pen within his sleeve seemed to burn savagely, a hiss slipped through his lips as his skin of his wrist tightened, checking the rooftop once more. He scrambled after her as the blade tip glistened out of her cloak, shadows danced further up but he ignored them, eye darted to a single guard near the west of the courtyard, his quiver tight. The pen burnt even stronger.

“Wait!” He cried out, pushing past a group of women when the bow snapped forward, a shadow leap from a roof as the sounds of metal clashing and screams filled the air. Henry ran faster.


	6. The Waitress

The bitter scent of coffee awoke Henry's senses as he shut the door behind him, a little bell chimed on entry. Wiping his shoes on the mat he cast his eyes around, taking in the atmosphere. It was settled comfortably in a quiet corner, nestled in the shadow of the twists and turns of the busy streets. 

He had gone by these streets before, mind blank and tank full to escape or wrangle his bustling thoughts. He had never noticed it before, the cosiness that seemed to envelop him once he entered the door. His mind could almost trace back to his many visits to Granny's years before, his mind almost set a trance. The warmth of the place, the smooth, but coarse leather bound booths that lined the west wall alongside the windows, and the thick scent of coffee, bacon and heat plunged by a cooker that never seemed to be turned off.

“Dad?”

He shook the thoughts away, feeling the warmth of Lucy's hand trace over the skin of his palm, now tightened to a fist. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it a moment later, her eyes lingered on his as he turned away.“Let's get a seat.”

Such as task did not prove difficult, most of the chairs laid empty except for the occasional wanderer, lost souls that were tired eyed and sipping desperately to a cup of coffee as if it was the only thing to keep them going. He could feel Lucy watch him in the corner of his eye, glancing away for a few moments before quickly returning.

Henry laid his elbow against the hardness of the table, eyes flickering up towards the little girl across from him, before returning to his iPhone. He frowned, typing out a quick message before tapping the send button, humming as it sent before sitting it on his lap. “What?”

“I dunno.” She muttered, pouting as she gazed straight at him, her eyebrow furrowed as if he was a total enigma to her, her shoulders hunched as she leaned her forearms onto the table, resting her chin down. “You're... different than I thought you'd be.”

Henry blinked, watching her a moment before his eyes drew back to his phone, a quiet buzz luring his attention away. “How's that?”

“I grew up with stories about you,” She stated, her tone tainted with curiosity. “ – about you, our family... but you're different now.”

He hummed softly, pursing his lips with a nod as his eyes shifted to her. “Well, that happens. It's been years since the events in that book of yours took place... people change.” He tapped his screen with his thumb, the light gave his face a piercing glow. 

“Not you.” She added. “You're the author, the truest believer – ”

He interrupted her, rolling his eyes. “I was fourteen.”

“Still.”

A minute of silence past between them, neither speaking as he watched Lucy lean over to grab one of the laminated menus from the corner of the table, her eyes continuing to sneak back towards him every few seconds. 

He watched her eyes hover over the words, glossed over and deep in thought. He could feel the corner of his mouth curl, forcing it to remain a strict line less the churning of his stomach grows worse, his skin hot and clammy at the sureness she held about her, the way her eyes wrinkled as she sat deep in thought, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

He could almost replace her with a familiar sight from his own life at such an age, a time filled with orderly meals and a woman much like her, posture sure and expression wrinkled in concentration. Her hair, a dark brown tilting towards the darkness of bark, curling around her jaw, eyes much the same littered with thoughts and objections and a darkness he would not revive in his mind nor did he ever hope to meet in the little girl's gaze.

Lucy gazed back up at him, shaking such thoughts away as she arched a brow, words lost to him as he blinked, drawing his mind back as he caught the end of her concern. “ – you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gasped, swallowing thickly as his breath caught the wall of his throat, forcing his voice not to strain as he rewarded her a stiff smile. “I'm good, you ready to order, kid?” He almost coughed the word, biting his lip at the instinct the word corrupted him with.

She smiled back, his mind startled at how genuine it came. She shifted in her seat, swinging her feet gently beneath the table as she straightened herself. “I guess...”

“You want another minute?”

She licked her lip, shrugging her shoulders meekly as she raised her eyes to meet him. A chuckle escaped his throat, his eyes rested on her as she peered back down onto the laminated sheet, frowning for a moment before placing it down with a nod. “I'm good.”

“Okay.” He nodded back, biting his lip. The minutes seemed to crawl by, the slow trail of people that slumped into the diner, carrying more bags beneath their eyes than they ever could in their arms, crept by and filled the collection of seats remaining. It was a few minutes later before someone was able to address them.

“So sorry for the wait. What can I get you?” A deep, regal voice called out to his side, leading Henry's eyes to flutter on his phone screen at the familiarity, his mouth frowned at the ache such a ridiculous thought brought, shrugging it away. “ I'm afraid there are no specials on at this time but there is plenty of coffee, should you need it.”

Henry nodded as he tapped the send button as he coughed. “Sorry 'bout that. Uh-yeah, I'll have coffee. I'm guessing you want cocoa, kid?” He could hear Lucy shuffle in her seat before him, almost like confirmation, following the hum of the woman as she strolled away, returning a few minutes later with two cups and saucers.

The gentle swish of liquid being poured filled his ears, the bitter taste of coffee awoke his senses. The skim of china on marble came a moment later, the sweet aroma lured him away from his phone as he shoved it into his jacket pocket with a click. He smiled as he pulled the cup up to his lips, turning towards the waitress as she stepped away from the table. “Thanks – ”

The clatter of china filled the air, a hot, swollen heat coats Henry's legs as he lost grip of his cup, staggering to catch the liquid as the heat bites at his skin, a hiss escapes his lips but his eyes linger on hers, green meet a familiar, warm brown of darkness and redemption, as well as exhaustion that he does not recognise. He ignores the pain, such an ache in his heart prove overpowering.

“Oh god! I am so sorry – are you alright? I-I'll get you some napkins!” Henry pushed her words away, her eyes wide in alarm as she raced towards the main desk, snatching up a handful of paper napkins before returning to their booth. She threw them onto his lap, winching as he pressed them onto the material of his jeans, the skin of his hands tinted red. “We have a bathroom in the back, if you'd prefer-”

He nodded, rising to his feet as he peeled the soaked napkins from his lap, bundling them up into a ball as he cast his vision to Lucy. “Just stay here for a minute.”

Lucy pursed her lips, ready to protest before closing her mouth again as she grasped her cup cautiously, raising it to her lip. “Okay...” She sighed, turning back into the booth.

“I'll watch her.”

He turned back to the woman who looked identical to his mother, her dark eyes softened towards the little girl. “It's the least I can do.” She added, raising her hands to her hips. “Through that door, third door on the right.”

Henry lingered for a moment, his eyes darted from Lucy's back to the woman before swallowing, nodding as he watched her retrieve more napkins, wiping away whatever coffee remained before sweeping away the remains of the cup. His chest fluttered as she smiled sweetly at Lucy, the ten year old happily chirping in her ear. 

Begrudgingly, he made his way to the bathroom, the heat flooding down his leg still faint but nevertheless sticking to his jeans, his face riddled with discomfort as he shoved the door open, casting one more look at his daughter and mother. He yanked his phone out of his pocket, the screen blank as he tore open his contacts – she needed to know, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE GET IT THEY'RE IN A DINER WITH COFFEE. WE. GET. IT.


End file.
